


What was Once Forgotten can be Recalled

by 2001HondaCivicRampage



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon Timeline... but also not, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Implied Father-Son Relationship, I’m a slut for closure, Nothing like regretting everything you've ever done, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2001HondaCivicRampage/pseuds/2001HondaCivicRampage
Summary: With the final strike of the Hunter’s weapon against the beast that was once Laurence, it’s not the emptiness of death that greets him, but someone he had long thought would never have wished to see him again.If given the chance to share the final thoughts with someone who was supposed to be long dead, it’s hard to think of precisely what to say.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	What was Once Forgotten can be Recalled

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I was discussing with a friend and we both agreed that it’s a shame we never get to find out more about exactly what Master Willem and Laurence’s relationship was during Byrgenwerth. Which led to a discussion on what we thought Laurence would say to Willem if he was able to after everything he had been through and seen.
> 
> Thus, this cracked up fic was created. 
> 
> It's set seconds after the Hunter kills Laurence in the Hunter’s Nightmare and requires a lot of suspension of disbelief

Willem grimaced silently and clutched the small, cool object within his palm tightly until he could feel the raised patterns dig into the soft flesh.

He could feel the impossible heat from what stood in front of him. Corporeal or not no longer mattered to him, he could see, his eyes had been opened, but that didn’t stop the physical recoiling from the blistering heat and stinging ash and embers that he felt brush his exposed face.

He could hear his breathing that came in pained rasps, almost on the verge of screeching it seemed.

Whatever eldritch force had caused him to manifest here was beyond the concepts of benign or evil, perhaps it pitied him, or perhaps it wished for one party to suffer, or perhaps die? Willem couldn’t be quite sure enough, so just stared on. Eyes shielded but always attentive, waiting on his seemingly confused and rather unexpected guest that had crawled up from the Moonside Lake. He couldn’t say he wasn’t shocked by the development, he had heard the murmurs in the air about a disturbance to the stability of the nightmare realms, about the curse that befell those who had offended Kos… in death he feared it would be himself as well. Though having him appear here in the waking world when he was long trapped in the nightmare… Willem knew not what emotions he was supposed to feel. Anger? Loathing? Sadness? Loss? Empathy? None seemed right. He just gritted his teeth and waited on that sick, twisted manifestation to make the initial move.

Laurence stood back and glanced around in confusion. Memories scrambled and the constant feeling of being blistered and burnt by his own form made it all the more incomprehensive. Mere seconds ago, he swore he had been in the dark depths of the Grand Cathedral within that twisted nightmare realm, barely lucid.

He had been screaming the whole time, for eons, and yet no one had heard him as he lay comatose, until the day he felt the presence of something clarifying, like a bell that rang and chased the fog away from his clouded mind. He had felt his body move almost on its own, the fog of his mind preventing him from achieving any true sense of clarity through.

He felt it draw him, the small, seemingly dull representation of who he was, who he had been and all he had failed to protect. The emotions of shock, fear, hatred and loathing for himself had flooded his psyche. But before he knew it he faded back into senseless screaming.

He had attacked. And then, nothing.

Now he stood here, in the soft moonlight that did nothing to chase away to churning sea in what would be his stomach if he were anything but bone, burnt flesh and lava. In the haze of being conscious in a body that hardly seemed his own, combined with the calm and rather pleasant surroundings of what he recognised as the Lunarium, leaving him both horrified and bewildered.

But he knew one thing.

 _He_ was here.

Right in front of him, just reclined on that old chair, as if he hadn’t moved since Laurence’s own days as a scholar all those years ago.

Laurence took another rasping breath in and began to unclasp his arms from around himself, causing a wave of embers and ash to fly in a rather pretty display from his tortured form. Slowly he placed his left hand on the stone beside him and raised himself onto all fours.

He wasn’t sure what to do.

There was so much to say, so much to apologise for. But he doubted he would ever have the words, and perhaps he no longer had the capabilities. His body felt foreign to him as he knew the combination of higher order thinking and a beasty design clearly did. They weren’t compatible and it made him sick to even think of himself or consider his situation, and yet, Laurence moved forward slowly, and still, without any response from Master Willem, who just continued to seemingly stare right through him.

Laurence stopped just short of his old master, hoping he was distant enough to not burn him, but yet Master Willem offered no response. The beast could see him moving slightly, so he was alive, but perhaps not responsive. But then… for the Gods above, why was he here?

Laurence felt his heart race faster than it ever had as he retracted his arms and put them around himself before crouching lower and hanging his head in a pointless attempt to appear smaller. He couldn’t face him, not after what had happened. Not after what he had done and become.

Through rasping breaths Laurence gritted his teeth and despite his humanish mind, released, animalistic hisses of pain and uncertainty. He placed an emaciated hand over his leathery muzzle, but it did little to quell the unfortunately animalistic response to his own distraught temperament.

“Ahhh.”

Laurence snapped his hand away and lowered his head, looking directly at Master Willem, who had raised his head to seemingly stare right through Laurence’s gaze despite his obscured eyes, moving slightly to readjust himself in his chair.

Laurence inhaled sharply and gritted his teeth again.

“Ahhh… long… time no, see, boy.”

Laurence released a shrill, short screech in his distress and moved back ever so slightly.

His breathing rose in its intensity as he felt the oncoming panic, causing the flames within him to rise and fall with each breath. He recognised him, Master Willem, after the years, and despite there being no feature on Laurence’s hellish form that indicated his once human body or mind, he still recognised him. Though perhaps with his incomprehensible knowledge of the eldritch truths, it should not have been surprising.

Laurence opened his mouth and desperately tried to find the words. But all he could seemingly enunciate was another shrill screech.

“Ahh quiet now… enough with the racket…” Master Willem rasped out slowly moving to straighten himself with difficulty, eventually relenting to using his staff to push himself more upright.

Laurence opened his mouth again, but knew it would be another shrill, inhumane shriek, so opted to close it and try to lower his anxiety.

“Ahh boy… the corporeal effects of the waking world influence us no longer… speak unclouded and think on it not too deeply.” Master Willem rasped out, stronger in its delivery as he maintained his blinded gaze on his former protegee, lips pulled into a thin, downward line.

Laurence breathed out what felt like all the air in his lungs. Corporeal? So, he was indeed dead… again… and yet was here, in the waking world… unless it wasn’t? could this be another nightmare realm? Had the entirety of Byrgenwerth and the surrounds been dragged into a nightmare as the lecture building?

Laurence gritted his teeth and shook his head, causing yet more embers to fly wildly around. He focused his thoughts on his mouth and what he wished to say.

The cleric beast took another breath in and closed his eyes for just a moment,

“M-Ma…ast..er, Wi…llem… I-I...”

Laurence uncoordinated attempt at speaking was cut short by Master Willem raising his staff and pointing it at him directly. Laurence closed his mouth and lowered his body close to the ground, head almost scraping the ground. But Master Willem just lifted his other, sleeved hand and in a slow, deliberate motion, inclined for him to move closer.

Laurence gritted his teeth and crawled forward slightly. 

The second he was within Willem’s staff length, the head of Byrgenwerth raised his golden staff and brought it down upon Laurence’s head in one semi-swift motion. 

There was no pain, not even any shock. The hit was so weak that it caused Laurence more confusion than anything else. But for Willem, the intent was clear.

“Are you… enjoying the blood, boy?” He rasped, gritting his teeth as he did so, but before Laurence had the chance to respond, Willem clicked his tongue and shook his head despondently, looking down to the ground.

Laurence lowered his head further, allowing the staff to remain there, but he took another breath in and looked up to Willem.

“Ma-ster Wi..llem, I don’t… know what to, say… just… I’m- “

“No.”

Laurence looked back down to the ground as Willem cut him off and withdrew the staff.

“By the Gods Laurence… it matters not what you say now. I know you regret it, that’s… ugh, clear… but that cannot ever undo what you have done…” Willem stated simply, turning his head slightly away, as if angry with a child for breaking a plate, rather than a twenty foot, burning manifestation of the first Vicar of the Healing Church and the harbinger of the scourge of the beast. But Laurence could sense the misery and genuine disappointment beneath all that.

The beast only nodded his head slightly.

“-But… Laurence…”

Laurence looked up to his master and silently winced. He could see the slight, reflective streaks of tears running down the pallid face of Willem, but the old master seemed not to care as he raised his right hand in his closed fist, pointed something towards Laurence.

As the beast looked to his hand, Willem opened it and allowed something to fall from his hand, before jolting and hanging from a chain on his finger.

Laurence’s jaw dropped and the churning mix of emotions only became more confused.

His pendant. The one he had given to Amelia all those years ago to be passed down through the line of his successors as Vicar. 

“I’m so glad I got to see… you again…” Willem choked out as he extended the pendant to his former student.

Laurence felt something scalding drip down his eye sockets. It took him a moment to realise that he still had to ability to produce tears, albeit seemingly made from the lava that constituted a great deal of his form. He lowered his head directly onto the ground and lay down truly, allowing the tears to drip onto the stone, cooling and solidifying as they did. Though it did little to stop the fatigue and pain felt through his entire being. 

“I’m so sorry Master Willem… the adage… I should have heeded it; I swore to you I would…” Laurence rasped out in his increasingly human way.

Willem recalled when one of the Choir members had reported to him that Laurence had succumbed and been subsequently killed, he would have been lying if he said he hadn’t felt something break within him. The wish to have done something more, to save him that fate was strong and near all-consuming along with the guilt and sorrow. But there was nothing he did, and thus nothing he could ever make right.

Willem just coughed and withdrew his hand with the pendant into his lap, dropping the golden object there as he declined his head to his former student. Taking in the twisted, hellish form he had taken. There was nothing left of the boy he had once known, all malformed and then set alight with the power of an unending flame. But still, those trapped in nightmares were rarely able to escape, so only in another death was Laurence able to be thrown here by some eldritch force, and Willem was determined to at least make the situation functional, whether or not he regretted it later. The old master coughed again, and through his slow tears, extended his hand, palm open to Laurence.

The former Vicar’s eyes widened at that and he stared at the open hand.

“I’ll burn you.” He breathed.

Willem only clicked his tongue and breathed out a sigh. Laurence deliberated for a moment, but slowly inclined his muzzle towards his former master, stopping short of actually touching him.

Willem could feel the heat to the point it would be near unbearable, but it mattered not. He slowly reached out his hand that final distance and placed his palm on the flat of Laurence’s face just above the end of the muzzle. It scalded, but it was just bearable. He felt the ash come loose under his hand from the near fleshless visage, but he kept his hand there for a moment. Laurence’s breaths came in rasps that raised and lowered the temperature with each pained movement. He could see the blackened skull with the frazzled fur and twisted antlers. It was all avoidable, he had warned him. And yet Willem regretted not doing more, but Laurence would have done it irrespective, driven as he was, with his research and ideas, not to mention the respect he had with the other researchers. It was really inevitable that Laurence would have forged his own path, it was just a shame how that had ended up. 

He had been different to all the other researchers, not that two were the same. Micolash may have had the greatest grasp on insights and the eldritch philosophy and Rom had the strongest connection with the Great Ones… But from that impressive cohort Willem had known it would be Laurence that could carry the next generation of scholars… yes… right to their addiction to blood, inevitable descent into beasthood and death. 

Willem withdrew his hand from Laurence’s muzzle and pulled back, the beast doing the same as he raised himself into the crouched, sitting position.

Neither spoke for a moment as Laurence brought a clawed hand to try and rid himself of the last of his tears before their solidified. But eventually, it was Willem who spoke,

“Boy, listen to me. I can never forgive the actions of you and your Church… however, I-I to would like to formally apologise… for not granting you the agency and truths you required during your time here… I understand why you left… I just, wish it had been different.”

Laurence returned to all fours before bringing his right hand in front of him, staring into the fire that danced across the skeletal form,

“I was a scholar Willem, not your son, I think you’ve forgotten that. I had agency, I had free will and I made my decisions accordingly and burnt for my sins when I wittingly elected options that resulted in the deaths and degeneration of innocents.”

Willem looked to the pendant that the hunter had given him, it was true enough, autonomy was always there, as was his support for his student and his inability to stop what may have been preventable.

Willem shook his head as he tentatively reached to his blindfold cap and gently raised it up, just to his forehead so he could see his former student with uninterrupted clarity, “Loathing yourself will do very little now boy. What’s done is done.”

Laurence looked down again and exhaled, “Then why am I here?”

Willem pondered that for a moment, but even in his many years of scholarship and research, he was still clouded by the wash of regrettably human emotions that shrouded his clear thinking.

“If I knew that boy, I would provide you every explanation and piece of advice I could.” He muttered, craning his neck to see to Laurence’s fiery gaze.

The beast looked away and brought his right hand to cover his eyes briefly as he gritted his teeth.

“This is my end now, I know that much… but even still, after all the pain and horror I caused… I still don’t want to return to the nightmare,” Laurence released a soft snarl that Willem interpreted as being some kind of apathetic laugh, “Amusing isn’t it, I knew of the dangers, but I genuinely believed in it, I thought it really could elevate us.”

Master Willem clicked his tongue again and shook his head before picking up the pendant again.

“I’m no more innocent that you Laurence, desecration of Kos, human experimentation, willing or not, still occurred under my watch… all for ascension.”

“Master Willem please don’t… what you did was nothing compared to Church.” Laurence began before feeling the scalding sting behind his eyes gather again, “I know you don’t wish me to admit that you were right, but still… I do want you to know that I am sorry, for the schism and all else that followed.” Laurence rasped softly, drawing his arms around him.

Willem only looked down before glancing to the Moonside Lake, sensing some change in the fabric between the realm and the waking world. Laurence appeared to have felt it as well and glanced around in another wave of ash. But for the beast, he felt a pull, as if something was willing him to move.

“… I can’t believe it; oh, Gods I don’t wish to return to that senseless nightmare…” Laurence whispered before biting back a shrill shriek of fear.

Willem clasped the pendant firmly,

“If you’re dead in the nightmare, I doubt you’ll return there… but this world is not for the dead either Laurence, and we cannot escape the inevitable.”

“Time’s up I suppose.” Laurence whispered fearfully as he inclined his head further towards the lake, feeling a stronger urge to move towards it.

Willem stared on silently, trying to ignore the rather human emotions that wanted him to experience sadness and loss more than anything. For the stolen life of Laurence, for his years of torture in the nightmare and for the Willem’s own inability to separate the scholar from someone who was like a son to him. But the best he could do was offer the support he thought he needed,

“Farewell boy, may the abyss of death or the next realm be more favourable to you.” Willem murmured, lowering his head so his student couldn’t see the tears that threatened to show.

Laurence moved to the edge of the balcony and stared into the seemingly uninviting fabric of worlds of whichever eldritch force was ensuring he moved towards. He looked back to Willem and with a slight nod, acknowledged him.

Whatever happened now, if it was nothingness or another torturous realm of punishment, he wouldn’t forget this, nor himself, nor their adage.

Not this time.


End file.
